


Day Breaks

by ShadowsParade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Malia Tate, Cooking, Domestic, Electrosex, Estim, F/F, F/M, Gay, Kitsune, Lacrosse, Were-Coyote, Werewolf, chris loves cooking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsParade/pseuds/ShadowsParade
Summary: A collection of moments throughout your average day in Beacon Hills. Chris makes Isaac some breakfast, Stiles and Scott discuss lacrosse and mortality, Lydia is brilliant, there's a threat at the game, Kira and Malia play with the connection they found in Mexico, [insert scene I haven't planned yet here], and Stiles and Malia reconnect.Set after Season 4, Ep 8





	Day Breaks

_Dad._

_Dad!_

_DAD!_

Chris Argent bolted awake, his head and heart pounding. He gritted his teeth as the dream image of Alison calling out to him, locking eye with him, before being impaled, her blood spattering across the wall behind her like some sick modern art, started to fade from his mind. Not on its own, of course. Chris breathed through the image, visualized placing a sheet over a painting of the moment, and turning to walk away, out of the gallery he’d created in his mind. A gallery with too many paintings and memorabilia covered in it, as far as he was concerned.

But that was his life. He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes and moved his hand to rub his temples, hoping the physical pain there would ease with the slowing of his heart. Turning his head to look from the ceiling to the window, his eyes landed on a form huddled in the armchair against the wall. Isaac was curled up, eyes pressed shut, whimpering slightly as he slept. A sad smile turned up the corners of Chris’s lips as he gazed at the sleeping teen. He never knew exactly when Isaac would show up, but more and more often Chris would wake to his sleeping form in that chair next to the window. Chris has specially engineered the protections on it to let Isaac in and no one else, and the teen was taking full use of it.

The kid seemed to be having a hard time with the fact that here, in this version of the world, people could, and would die. He had only been a werewolf for a little over a year now, so it made sense that he head would still be spinning with these new revelations. Isaac was no stranger to dysfunction and pain, but, still, every movie, every TV show the boy had watched growing up there were rules that weren’t broken about who lived and who died. Here, in Beacon Hills, though, at the seat of the supernatural, there were no special safety exceptions for the ‘good guys’, girlfriends, parents, sisters, wives, daughters…

Images of Kate, Victoria, Alison flashed in his mind for a brief moment before he was able to cover them once again. He needed to get out of bed. He needed coffee. Flipping back the covers, Chris rose, stretching with a yawn. He may be older than the teens that took action in the town, but that didn’t mean that his muscles didn’t also ripple under his simple white t-shirt as he stretched. He moved quietly past the chair Isaac slept to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and trimmed his beard. He ran a hand through his greying hair and sighed. So much had happened so quickly, and it didn’t look like they were going to be slowing down anytime soon. He turned, exited the bathroom and saw Isaac had woken up.

The boy was still huddled in the chair, crouching like a scared dog. As his eyes met Chris’s he straightened up a little and sniffed, eyes red and puffy.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to bother you, I’ll get out of your way,” he said, scrambling out of the chair, trying to hide the fact he’d been crying.

“Isaac.”

Chris’s voice, gentle but firm, stopped him in his tracks.

“You know you’re always welcome here.” The older man walked over and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Isaac choked back a sob, turning to hug Chris.

“Thank you, I… I…”

Chris shushed him, patting Isaac’s head.

“We need each other here. Tearing one another to shreds doesn’t do any good.” The man paused as Isaac gave him one final tight squeeze and released him. Before either of them could say another word, Isaac’s stomach growled loud enough for someone in the next room to hear it, even without werewolf super-senses. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

The two walked into the kitchen of Chris’s new apartment. It wasn’t as large or as fancy as his previous one, but it worked for a single man who would rather spend his money on his man cave. And to Chris, ‘man cave’ was just code for his massive underground artillery storage, complete with a small shooting range. Isaac shuffled uncomfortably in the doorway as Chris went to open the refrigerator.

“Do you, uh, need help?” He asked meekly. With his head still inside the refrigerator, Chris gave a dismissive wave, gesturing for Isaac to sit at the small kitchen table. The boy sat, and before he realized it, was mesmerized by watching Chris cook.

The man had pulled out a carton of eggs, some mushrooms, a block of white cheese, and a Tupperware full of chopped ham out of the fridge, then proceeded to rifle through some drawers and cabinets to find a cutting board, whisk, and a small bowl. Chris pulled a knife from a nearby block and begin to deftly chop the mushrooms with quick, practiced cuts. He had a look of serenity about him as he worked that Isaac had never seen before. Granted, most of his interactions with Chris had been within the context of fighting the supernatural, which wasn’t the most serene of atmospheres, but still… This man _loved_ cooking. And it looked like he was pretty damn good at it.

With the mushrooms and ham sizzling in a pan with a splash of olive oil, Chris moved to cracking and whisking the eggs and adding a small pinch of salt to the mixture, occasionally reaching over to shake the pan with the fillings. When they were heated and browned to Chris’s satisfaction, he moved them to a small glass bowl and tossed a hunk of butter into the pan to melt with the remnants of the fat from the ham. He then poured the egg into the pan, moving it a bit with a spatula, and then proceeding to flip it. He poured the mushroom and ham back into the center of the eggs, grabbed a grater and shredded some cheese into the omelet, and then folded it. Opening a drawer, he grabbed a simple plate, much too common for the delicacy he slid onto it. As he walked from the stove to the table, he stopped casually to grab a few leaves of parsley from a little plant sitting in the window which he placed on top of the omelet.

Setting the plate in front of Isaac, the boy started dumbfounded at the masterpiece in front of him as Chris turned back to grab silverware and pour himself a cup of black coffee.

“Want anything to drink?” He asked, opening the refrigerator once more. “There’s coffee, milk, some orange juice I squeezed a few days ago that might still be good…”

Isaac shook his head in disbelief. “I… guess I’ll take some of the orange juice?”

Chris returned to the table, set both of their glasses down and held out the silverware for Isaac to take.

“What?”

“I just.. never expected..” The boy took the fork and knife, shaking his head.

“Not all of our secret talents come from the supernatural,” Chris said with a smirk, leaning back and taking a sip of his coffee. Isaac ate a forkful of the omelet.

“You sure about that? I’m not convinced this cooking isn’t at least a little bit otherworldly.”

Chris smiled into his coffee, shaking his head slightly.

“Just shut up and eat, kid,” he said, glancing up with shining eyes at Isaac, who grinned back, then dove into the rest of the omelet.


End file.
